


I can make you boil up baby, let it simmer

by honeybunchesofgoats (pearwaldorf)



Category: Slow Show - mia_ugly
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, BWOMMMMM, Bathing/Washing, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, The Layers!, Warlock (TV), mia_ugly's Slow Show Universe, we have to go Deeper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/honeybunchesofgoats
Summary: "Oh, fuck, William—"There's a gasp behind him, and Erasmus freezes.Shit. Did he say that out loud? Is William the one who walked in on him?He turns around. William is standing by the door, a stricken expression on his face. Fuck his life, honestly and truly. There's no way he can hope to fix this, other than to beg the other man's forgiveness and he doesn't know what else. For the first time ever, Erasmus genuinely does not have a single fucking idea how to get himself out of a situation.
Relationships: Erasmus/William (Warlock)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 165
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Slow Show Metaverse, Warlock fic





	I can make you boil up baby, let it simmer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MovesLikeBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/gifts).
  * Inspired by [To Sound with a Voice of Confession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772348) by [WilliamsHeresy (MovesLikeBucky)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/WilliamsHeresy). 



> Sort of a sequel to MovesLikeBucky's fic (linked above) but doesn't require you to read it. But you should because it's awesome.
> 
> This is fic for an imaginary TV show in a Good Omens AU. idk what to say. Read [Slow Show](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395261)? Treat it like origfic? Do what you want. idk anymore.

Not only is there an inn in this town, it has an attached bathhouse. Erasmus could weep at the knowledge (quietly and where nobody can see him, but all the same), but it’s unlikely they have the coin for more than a room and possibly rations. A washcloth and a basin of warm water is still more than he expected, and he will be grateful for it.

William appears at the door of the inn and motions the rest of them inside. It’s warm, with the smell of stew and fresh bread permeating the common room. The proprietor, a slightly harassed-looking woman in her 50s, looks over the new arrivals. 

Julia’s trying to appear sociable, but there’s something fraying in her smile. Joshua is fussing, and Erasmus is trying to distract him so he won’t cry. Not that he would blame the kid; it’s been a string of long, bad weeks for everybody. 

Something flickers behind the proprietor’s eyes, and her face softens. “I don’t know your business, nor do I wish to, but ‘tis clear a hot bath and a good soak would benefit you all.” William opens his mouth, but she holds up a finger. “On the house. You’ll need that coin later.”

At this Julia does start crying, and Joshua looks at her in concern. “It’s all right,” she tells him, wiping her eyes. He looks as dubious as a small child can, but says nothing. He takes cues from all of them, and if they aren’t bothered, he isn’t.

“Thank you, goodwife. Your kindness will be remembered.” William takes her hand in both of his. “A thousand blessings on you and your family.” 

Erasmus pushes down the flare of envy at seeing William touch a stranger so casually. It’s fucking unfair, when he hoards every errant brush and casual graze like some appallingly pathetic dragon. But then again, William doesn’t have to deal with this goodwife day and night for the foreseeable future. Erasmus supposes that’s the tradeoff he’s made, even if he wasn’t aware of it at the time.

They go up to their room. It has two double beds and even a little cot for Joshua. The three of them eye each other, trying to figure out who gets the luxury of sleeping alone tonight.

(It’s not that they have any problem with sharing a bed. They can’t, in their circumstances. But sometimes, the simple dream of being able to sprawl out, just a little bit, without bony elbows sticking into sides, somebody mumbling in their sleep, or waking up with drool on your back; seems almost unattainable.)

“You two figure it out,” Julia says. “I’m going to have my bath. I’ll bunk with whoever doesn’t get the single.” She takes Joshua by the hand, and they leave the room.

A serving girl brings them stew and bread, setting it on the table. Erasmus ladles out a bowl each for the two of them while William tears up the bread. William mutters grace quickly and under his breath before he eats. 

Erasmus wonders how much of it is habit versus belief. It’s not like he and William have deep meaningful conversations about this sort of thing, but it’s obvious it is something that weighs heavily on the priest. He supposes spending months in the wilderness avoiding soldiers sent by the Church that raised you and has been the foundation of your entire life would do that. 

He also doesn’t know much about William’s reasons for joining the priesthood, but he suspects it didn’t have anything to do with obligation towards Mater et Magistra. There is a kindness and fierce devotion in his ministry, so bright it might as well be a fucking halo. Erasmus is nowhere near religious, but he supposes he wouldn’t find it so terrible if more of the Church was like William. 

“Are you going to eat that?” William eyes his bowl of stew, which is only half-finished. Erasmus checks the pot. There’s more than enough left for Julia and the boy, so he pushes his bowl across the table. It’s not exactly a bounty, but it’s more than the bare minimum, and he’ll count that as a win. 

Julia and Joshua return, both of them wet-haired and flushed from vigorous scrubbing. As she helps Joshua onto a chair, Erasmus makes up a bowl for her and a smaller one for Joshua. 

“Thanks,” she says. 

“How was your bath?” William asks. 

She sighs happily. “Everything I dreamed about and more.” 

Joshua makes a face, and Julia laughs. “He didn’t want me washing behind his ears, but he let me anyways. Such a good kid.” She ruffles his hair fondly, and Erasmus pretends he doesn’t feel a swell of affection for the boy. They all care for him, but for some reason Joshua seems to adore Erasmus in particular. 

He clears his throat, looks at William. “You want to go next?” 

William shakes his head. “I think I’ll finish off the rest of this stew first.” 

“All right, but if there’s no hot water left you don’t get to bellyache about it.” 

— 

The bathing room is not a giant pool as he expected, but rather two large, deep tubs. One is empty, presumably the one Julia used. (He’s not sure if somebody’s supposed to come and refill it, but that’s William’s problem.) The other one steams invitingly, and Erasmus sheds his clothes, hanging them up on pegs. 

He slips into the tub, biting back a noise at the heat. It’s just on the edge of tolerable, but his body adjusts. He performs his ablutions, scrubbing himself down and washing his hair. It’s so good to be clean, to feel weeks of grime lift off and expose pale skin, pink from scouring. His hair is no longer coated in grease, dirt and who knows what else. It’s been long enough he almost forgot what it feels like, and it’s a tiny bit like being reborn.

He leans back against the side, resting his head on the lip. He’s so fucking relaxed it’s almost erotic, and he luxuriates in the warmth like a basking snake. He runs his hands over his body, just enjoying the feeling. Something about the pleasure of it makes his cock twitch, and he considers.

This is probably the last time in the foreseeable future he’s going to be safe, alone, and undisturbed. If he’s going to have a wank, this is the time. 

(It’s not like he hasn’t tossed off in the woods before. But it’s very cold, deeply unpleasant, and something to be done only in great desperation. He hopes to never let it get to that point again.)

There’s a bottle of sweet oil next to the tub, and he pours some on his hand. He slicks his cock up, and that's very nice indeed. He strokes himself leisurely, relishing the sensation, the fill of his cock under his own attention.

His mind wanders, and he finds himself thinking of pale curls, an impossibly red mouth. Even in the heat he can feel himself flush, shame and arousal mixing. William is a friend, brother in arms. He shouldn't be fodder for Erasmus's wank visualizations. 

His cock begs to differ, hardening traitorously at the thought. Erasmus wonders how he'd like it: gentle and tender, hard and fierce and relentless, or if it would depend on his mood. He thinks of the rare occasions he's seen William lost in pleasure: biting into a wild strawberry, turning his head to the sun after not seeing the sky for days. There's a beautiful purity in his enjoyment, a sense of joy and gratitude that is the closest thing Erasmus can conceive of as holy.

He remembers the confessional, and a wave of lust nearly swamps him. They were running from a pack of inquisitorial guards, and tried to lose them in an abandoned church. They hid in the little space, nearly on top of one another, willing the guards to go elsewhere.

William had almost said something, and Erasmus put a finger to those ridiculous crimson lips. Here, not in his memory, William takes it into his mouth, to the second knuckle. His lips are soft, hot-slick around his finger, and Erasmus moans, thrusting into the tight circle of his hand.

William drags his tongue against his finger and round the tip. It's a tease but also a promise of things to come, and Erasmus damn near tears his trousers open, shoving them past his hips. He has no room for shame, his need crowding out everything else. He doesn't care how it must look to William: a desperate, wanton slut presenting himself, begging to be sucked off.

There's just enough light shining through the cutouts for him to see William's smirk. It's not an expression he's used to seeing on the priest's face, and in that moment he finds he wouldn't mind seeing it more. 

He takes Erasmus's cock into his mouth, and Erasmus cries out. "Oh, fuck, William—"

There's a gasp behind him, and Erasmus freezes. _Shit_. Did he say that out loud? Is William the one who walked in on him?

He turns around. William is standing by the door, a stricken expression on his face. Fuck his life, honestly and truly. There's no way he can hope to fix this, other than to beg the other man's forgiveness and he doesn't know what else. For the first time ever, Erasmus genuinely does not have a single fucking idea how to get himself out of a situation.

He climbs out of the tub, pulling a towel around him. It does nothing to hide his erection, but at this point he'll take even a pretense of dignity. 

William comes over to him. His face is red, and it's a rather charming contrast to his fair skin. 

"As I see it, we have two choices. We can pretend this never happened, and go about wherever we call our strange existence. Or we can acknowledge this… thing between us.”

Ah yes. The thing where Erasmus pulled away from William in the confessional, ready to leave, when William jerked him back by his collar. The thing where he buried his fingers into William’s impossibly soft curls, ready to kiss him before Julia nearly pulled the door off its hinges. 

“That was months ago,” he says wittily, still not quite sure this isn’t some heat-induced dream. 

“It was,” William acknowledges. “I came to see if you’d fallen asleep in the bath, and then you said my name.” 

He curls his hand to the back of Erasmus’s head, tilting it down until their foreheads rest together. “Tell me, my dear. Do you always think of me when you touch yourself?” 

Erasmus makes a profoundly undignified noise. That impossibly decorous, priestly voice asking him about _that_ is—fuck. _Fuck_. 

“‘S not something I do much, but I can tell you I will from now on.” 

William chuckles, soft and amused. “What were you imagining, in the bath?” 

He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “You, on the bench in the confessional.” 

“And what was I doing?” How can he ask such things so calmly? 

“You were— you were sucking my cock.” 

William makes a thoughtful noise and pulls Erasmus towards a chair standing by the wall. He sits down on it, looking up. 

“Would you like me to?” 

If this is a dream, Erasmus never wants to wake up. Let the world go on without him for the next century or so; he’s fine right here. “Please, yes.” 

William smiles, more smugly than a priest should be able to, and tugs at the towel. It falls to the floor, and Erasmus is fully naked in front of him. The only piece of clothing William has removed is his cloak, and that gives an added charge to the whole proceeding.

William runs his fingers down his length, and Erasmus shudders. The touch is maddening without providing any actual gratification, and he almost whines at it. 

“Absolutely lovely,” William says softly, stroking against it. “I’m going to savor you to the fullest, my dear.” 

Certainly Erasmus has been complimented in this, ah, regard before, but never with such affection. He doesn’t know how he feels about it, but then William takes him into his mouth and it ceases to be a concern at all. 

He’s true to his word, making pleased little noises as he works his tongue and hand over Erasmus. He’s wet and sloppy: laving over the head, licking the underside as deep as he can fit to the tip. It’s strange, to be the singular focus of someone’s attention the way William concentrates on him, but also heady, intoxicating in a way he could learn to crave very quickly.

Erasmus threads his fingers into William’s hair, just resting. William makes a noise in the back of his throat. He runs his fingers through those ridiculous curls, and is rewarded with a moan and more enthusiastic attention than he thought possible. He’s not going to last very long if William keeps this up, but William seems to be enjoying it even more than him.

William’s noises against his cock are becoming more frantic, and Erasmus can feel his own control wearing thin. He tugs at William’s hair, trying to let him know he’s close. William doesn’t let up, and so he comes with a long, deep groan, pulsing for what seems like ages. 

William pulls off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Erasmus feels a bit wobbly, and drops to the floor next to the chair. He rests his head against William’s thigh, and feels a hand card through his hair. He relaxes into it for a few minutes before he lifts his head up, remembering.

“I didn’t—” 

“There’s no need. I, ah, became rather overexcited.” William’s blushing furiously now, and Erasmus sees the beginnings of a wet spot on the front of his trousers. 

“Oh.” He’s not up for a second round, but it’s certainly something to know William enjoyed that enough to come untouched. 

“You still haven’t had your bath.” Erasmus feels guilty now, having sidetracked William. Rather pleasantly for both of them, but still. 

William pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get the servant girl to help me fill it. You should go back to the room, get some sleep.” 

“Are you sure I can’t help?” 

“That’s considerate of you to offer, but really, I’ll be all right.” He smiles reassuringly, and Erasmus goes to retrieve his clothes and dress. 

In the room, Joshua is asleep in the cot and Julia is sprawled out on one of the beds. It would be too much effort to wake her up and get her to budge over, so Erasmus takes one side of the other bed. At some point William returns and gets in beside him. Erasmus drifts off to sleep, secure in his knowledge everybody is safe, at least for tonight.

He wakes up to feel a warm body at his back. William has thrown an arm over Erasmus in his sleep, and his head is mashed between his shoulders. There might be a spot of drool on his shirt. 

Julia rolls over and looks at him, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She stifles a laugh when she notices William, still asleep. Joshua gets up from the cot, holding his stuffed rabbit. He walks over to Erasmus, solemn as only a small child can be.

“Morning, Raz.” 

He musses Joshua’s hair. “Morning, kid. How did you sleep?” 

**Author's Note:**

> "Mater et Magistra" means "mother and teacher", referring to the role of the (Catholic) Church.


End file.
